Final Fantasy: Warriors Will Come
by auhin
Summary: During peacetime, the lurking shadow of the oncebanished Monstria returns to annihilate the race of Man and all its allies. Hope lies in the hands of a group of unlikely heroes who must face sword, magic, and sea to overcome an innumerable foe.
1. Off to Work

The people wait,

Their only hope, a Prophecy…

Thus saith the Gulgan:

"When the world is in darkness,

Four Warriors will come…"

FINAL FANTASY: WARRIORS WILL COME

Chapter One: Off To Work

THE FIRST TIME one meets a Dwarf, they shall never forget it. The sheer nature of the Dwarf makes sure of that.

Dwarves are mostly short, stocky manlike creatures (if "creature" is the right word) with beards and accents you can cut with a knife. They dwell underground and in mountains, or anywhere else where there's rocks and earth. For it is by rocks and earth that Dwarves make their living.

Two such Dwarves were walking--marching, rather-- down a rocky tunnel hundreds of feet below the ground. Each was whistling an carrying a pickaxe on their right shoulder.

The first, wearing blue armor and having a brown beard, was Griozz. His nephew, Bedrock, was the second, wearing green armor and having a smaller beard, for he was much younger than Griozz.

The tunnel winded through Mt. Tungsten, whose interior held the largest concentration of emeralds in the whole continent.

"I can't believe it's my first day to go mining!" exclaimed little Bedrock, whose two-horned helmet was obviously too big for his own head.

"Och! Neither can I, ya wee rascal!" shouted Griozz, who chuckled to himself. "It seems only yesterday my sister was still carryin' you aroond the Fort." Bedrock laughed and Griozz tugged his nephew's beard playfully.

Cave paintings scribbled on the tunnel's walls drew the boy's gaze. Crude depictions of Dwarves and tall Men with swords were repeated several times.

"What are these, Uncle Griozz?" he asked.

Griozz look ed back at his nephew but continued walking. "Ah, old drawings, laddie. Battles from long past, tales of kings and queens… It's all hist'ry, Y'know!"

Satisfied with this explanation, Bedrock looked away from the cave drawings, but his mind still lingered. It lingered on imaginary adventures and journeys hidden in the recesses of a mountain just like this, in a distant land or right up ahead, whichever was closer.

The two reached an opening to a where mounds upon mounds of glittering jewels and minerals lay, and there was barely any room to walk on the rocky floor. The cavern walls reached up high above the mounds, so high in fact that the ceiling was bathed in shadow.

Instantly Griozz chose a spot and began picking away with his pickaxe. Bedrock followed suit clumsily, and the two soon, after much trying, created a metronomic rhythm of clinks and swings.

This was the simple yet brilliant life of the Dwarf. For Dwarves, working was as fun as leisure, and both were prime reasons for getting up in the morning.

Not long into this rhythm did other Dwarves begin to arrive in the mine as well. Some were even stockier than Griozz, some lean, some even a little bit tall (for a Dwarf). But all were armed with pickaxes and joined in on the work.

For minutes and hours the Dwarves toiled on, some whistling louder and lustier. Slowly but surely they began to sing the old Dwarven ballads passed down from their ancestors. The ancestry swelled up in their entire bodies, pulsing through their veins, commanding every rise and fall of the pickaxes.

Mining is what Dwarves do best, after all.

The glint of the crystals' surfaces amazed young Bedrock, who had never been to a mine before. This, coupled with the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the other miners, motivated Bedrock to do something so daring and bold he almost regretted it.

He put down his pickaxe slowly, glanced over to make sure his uncle wasn't watching, and reached out to grab the emerald.

As his tiny fingers closed in on the treasure, the sparkling artifact of beauty so close within his reach, thoughts of the cave drawings came back. Maybe this was what the kings and queens were fighting the battles for! Maybe he had chosen the right emerald out of the thousands in the mine, the one they had been looking for (if they ever did look for such a thing). Maybe he, Bedrock, would become the youngest adventurer ever in this History his uncle had mentioned.

As soon as he did, a loud, foreign yell echoed throughout the cavern! Everyone stopped working and looked around frantically for the noise's source.

Another scream. Griozz held his pickaxe in a fighting stance now, round brown eyes alert. His bulbous nose sniffed the air. "I smell something very foul…"

Then, from one of the other tunnel entrances that led into the cavern, a small Something appeared. The Something carried a tiny dagger and a had long, floppy ears, orange skin, and warts all over its ugly face. The Something stepped through the opening into the cavern.

"I don't believe it," gasped Griozz, who turned to his nephew who was in the middle of snatching an emerald from one of the piles. "Get behind me, Bedrock! Quick!"

The tiny Dwarf obeyed, forgetting the jewel and scrambling as fast as his tiny legs could take him to the safety of his uncle. Griozz raised his pickaxe as the Something crept slowly towards him, a menacing look on its features.

In an instant chaos erupted. Dwarves were running towards the foe, slashing left and right. Griozz, to one to be left out of a good brawl, joined in. The Goblin (for it was obvious to all the adult Dwarves who had seen such creatures in their history scrolls) was soon overwhelmed and cut down.

But as soon as the Goblin fell, two appeared in the same tunnel entrance. Bedrock pointed at the two new enemies and yelled, "Look, uncle Griozz!"

The thought of the emerald he so longingly desired had now withered away and was blown into the depths of memory, forgotten. For now, a real threat replaced it: real danger had arrived in Bedrock's young life.

Griozz and several other Dwarves jogged towards the oncoming Goblins with pickaxes raised at the ready. One Goblin struck out with his knife, jabbing a Dwarf in the stomach. The Dwarf drew back sharply as he was hit.

Griozz slashed with his pickaxe and cut down the offending Goblin, but the other stabbed a Dwarf in mid-swipe at that same instant.

Three more Goblins came scrambling down the other tunnel to the cavern, dashing straight across the crowded mine towards th other side.

Bedrock yelped. He was standing right in the trio's path! The young Dwarf struck out blindly with his pickaxe and killed one, to his surprise.

The other two noticed and circled around Bedrock to take him out. Griozz noticed this out of the corner of his eye and hesitated for a brief moment, then turned away from the lone Goblin he was facing and ran for his nephew.

Just in the nick of time, Griozz jumped out and covered Bedrock with his body, taking the knife jabs instead.

After much stabbing, the Goblins stopped and looked confusedly at each other. The knives were being blocked by his thick blue armor!

In this brief moment of confusion, a few other Dwarves took the opportunity to run up behind the unsuspecting Goblins and slay them where they stood.

Griozz got up with Bedrock in his bulking arms and spun around to leave. Several other Dwarf miners had already done the same, seeing the Goblin attack being thwarted swiftly.

In an instant Griozz was running, with Bedrock slung over his right shoulder, straight towards the lone Goblin he had deserted earlier. The beast smiled mischievously, rubbing his brown hands together.

_Wham!_

The only attack that connected was Griozz' left fist to the Goblin's ugly mug. The Dwarf was running straight past the Goblin, into the tunnel, and turning west.

As other Goblins dropped like flies under the Dwarves' pickaxes back in the mine, Griozz ran down the tunnel network, still comprehending that the monsters supposedly banished a century ago had somehow resurfaced.

But not even Griozz, as middle-aged and experienced as he was, could have predicted what was happening all around the land at that moment.


	2. Sorcery and Plotting

-1Chapter Two: Sorcery and Plotting

THE PIG SQUIRMED. Tied to a log and laid flat on its back, the animal struggled to look up at its captor.

The specter of ghouls would cut a chilling sight to any man or beast who happened upon it.

He was really only a floating skeleton with no legs: A ribcage and chest of bones connected by magic to a floating skull. Two skeletal arms and hands floated outside the purple cape that draped over its shoulders and chest. In both bony hands laid two silver cutlasses, stained by dried blood of battles past.

On top of the skull was a feathered headdress with feathers of red and black, stolen from some ancient treasury long ago. The skull's eye sockets pulsed with subtle yet haunting scarlet light, and the jaw moved up and down as the demon spoke.

"I grow tired of pigs' meat, my children," he said, raising the two blades in the air. "_Nanamya Lich Nocent Manruuis."_

The pig squealed as flames of green and blue appeared all around him. The heat licked at its tail and feet and its body began to sweat all over. The pain intensified and the beast closed is eyes slowly.

The ghoul yelled and brought the cutlasses down upon the sacrifice. The pig's body lurched upward as the blades plunged into its heart. Then the body was still and did not move as blood trickled out from its flesh.

The flames disappeared. The ghoul stood straight up once more. He withdrew the blades, now drenched with fresh blood, and hummed something. They disappeared simultaneously in dual puffs of smoke.

Another skeleton, this one fully connected and with bone legs that clanked and clattered as it walked, approached the robed one. This soldier, bearing a single sword and claymore, saluted and greeted its master.

"Guests to see you, Lord Scarmin."

Scarmin nodded knowingly and floated over the pig's carcass, past the soldier. Several identical ghoul soldiers were stationed around the large hollowed-out tree. A small portcullis of bones formed a doorway for the hole in the trunk which provided entry and exit to the mist-covered forest beyond. Scarmin stopped in front of the portcullis, which rose up by itself.

Into the cavern slithered a large, eight-foot tall creature with the head and arms of a woman and the body and belly of a purple snake. Adorned with a silver crown and studded with sapphires, amethysts, and rubies, the Lamia was hideous yet entrancing, a terrifying paradox.

Small, almost invisible eyes and grotesquely large lips were the most defining features of its face. Long fuchsia hair reached down past its thin arms and seemed to flow from side to side with the rest of its body.

Two smaller Lamias (the royal one was at least eight feet tall and had to duck to fit through the opening) flanked her, one armed with a knife in and the other with a mirror.

Scarmin bowed, putting one hand in front of his "chest." When he rose, he greeted the larger crowned Lamia: "Ah, my dear Queen. To what do my ghouls and I owe the pleasure?"

The Lamia Queen whipped a fan out of thin air and promptly began fanning her face. "No need for the pleasantries, Scarmin. You know why I have come. The time for Revenge is upon us," she answered in a beautiful, rich voice that contradicted her appearance.

Scarmin turned to his soldiers and began floating with bony hands folded against the back of his robe, skull bent in thought. "Ah, yes! But of course. My ghouls and I have long sought the flesh of Men to devour. But I assume you have already begun planning Revenge for some time now?"

The Queen laughed, her large lips opening wide, revealing a thin blue tongue drenched with poisonous saliva. "You underestimate me, Scarmin! Of course I have a plan. But I fear it will only be achievable with your help," explained the Queen, now slithering up to Scarmin slowly. "Your influence in the world of Monstria exceeds even mine!"

Scarmin considered these words with excess care, knowing how fun it was to tug at The Lamia Queen's temper. "True, true, my friends do grow weary of hiding in the nooks and crannies. Perhaps this is the ideal time for Revenge after all," he stated in a rising voice, "Yes, yes… The Imps, Goblins, Orcs, Bombs-- all faithful comrades, ready to attack Man at any drop of the helm. And with the masses of your feifdom, dear Queen--"

At this she interrupted him with another laugh, this one riddled with perverse visions that now soaked through her scaled body. "The seas, darling! Much more powerful and massive than any fiefdom! Sahagins, Krakens, the Liliths, all of my Lamia kindred of course."

Scarmin now turned to face her, eyes glowing. He was clearly excited as he spoke: "You have already risen new boldness in my ghouls and I, dear Queen!" Several of the skeleton soldiers jumped up and down, rattling their bones In agreement.

The Queen put away her fan and looked straight into Scarmin's eye sockets, bending down to reach his height. Her slits opened just a bit, revealing diamond-shaped eyes surrounded by golden pupils. "Is that a 'yes?'"

Scarmin nodded slowly and a tiny rattling sound filled her tiny, gill-like ears. "You sure do know how to persuade the undead, don't you?" Then he gasped, looking down back at the pig carcass tied to the log. "I almost forgot about my dinner!"

The Queen stood straight up once more and extended a feminine but wet hand. Scarmin shook it. "I look forward to working with you again, my fair Queen."

"The pleasure will be all mine, my lovely Scarmin," she answered with a seductive look in her tiny eyes. She turned and began slithering towards the door. "I've already commanded several Goblin clans to begin attacking Mt. Tungsten. If we are to exact Revenge on Man, we must first remove Man's allies, correct?"

It was Scarmin's turn to laugh, this time out of gross satisfaction. "Now I remember why I enjoyed your presence so much!"

"At any rate," continued the Queen, who had reached the door, "Send some of your eagerest to begin a campaign starting with the southern cove to work your way north, and one campaign starting with these woods, working your way eastward."

"Ah," said Scarmin with a short intake of excited breath, realizing her plan, "So a pincer attack on Elfheim is what you had in mind, eh? I look forward to it."

The bone portcullis rose up. "Exactly. Oh, and Scarmin, I brought you a little…parting gift," she added with a knowing smile. The two Lamias disappeared into the misty forest and reemerged holding a struggling bundle of flesh and hair between them.

The Lamias tossed the ragged boy onto the ground before Scarmin. He looked up into the demon with large, timid eyes. Scarmin clapped his bony hands and two skeleton soldiers walked forward to seize the offering. The boy writhed and bit in his captors' hands, but was too weak; the boy was tied to a log and carried over to where the dead pig still lay, a motionless, irregular pink rock.

"Farewell for now, my lovely Scarmin," she remarked in an amused voice.

With that, the Lamia Queen turned to the door and exited the tree, flanked by her two Lamias cohorts, out into the fog of mist that blanketed the Vice Woods. The tree's gnarled roots dug deep into the moist dirt like starved worms looking for sustenance in the earth.

The child's cries of pain reached the Queen's gill-like ears. Another sickening smile spread across her hideous face.


End file.
